


The Devil's Workshop

by fractalanatomy



Series: Reach Out and Touch Faith [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Belly Kink, Body Horror, Enemas, Facial, Force-Feeding, Gore, Horror, Humiliation, Inflation, M/M, Medical Torture, Multi, Rape, Sadism, Spitroasting, Threesome, bursting, gay for science, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 07:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalanatomy/pseuds/fractalanatomy
Summary: Micolash and Damian carry out a very questionable experiment, with an unsuspecting student of Mensis as the subject. What do they learn? Well, that's up for debate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This gets pretty gross, don't say I didn't warn you!

A newly selected pile of instruments upon the table in Micolash’s office always meant there was something interesting afoot, and as Damian listened to the head of Mensis explain exactly what he had planned for his next experiment, ‘interesting’ was certainly one way he could think to put it...genius, shocking, and reprehensible equally came to mind. There was a mad brilliance to it, though, and with Micolash at the helm, what was the school’s collective efforts in communing with the Great Ones if not madly brilliant? The older man furrowed his brow and frowned while listening, however, his concern written clearly in the lines of his weathered face. 

“Damian, you are a scholar of great esteem, someone I hold in high regard and consider a very close friend,” Micolash said, appealing to his companion’s ego. “However, I can see your reservation plainly, and it concerns me. You know the path to enlightenment is not easily trod!”

“And you well know the strength of my commitment to our cause,” Damian answered carefully, anxious fingers tapping against his folded arms. “Must it be a student? The gaol is full for a reason, you realize.”

Micolash forced a dramatic sigh and went over to his companion, draping his arms loosely around the older man’s shoulders with their Mensis cages clinking together rather comically.

“I know, I _know_ ,” he droned, rolling his eyes, “believe me, I do. Yet, in order to succeed, I'm convinced we require someone of a more exotic lineage than found on the city streets, and for that we must look within our own ranks. Not to mention...it must be someone blessed enough in looks for us to get the job done, hm?”

A hint of a grin broke through Damian’s frown at the suggestion their subject had to be, of all things, _pretty_.

“Can I count on your support and participation in this endeavour, my friend? For the betterment of mankind?” Then pouting, added, “For me?”

It was nearly impossible to say no when Micolash was like this, affectionate and clingy like an overgrown child begging to play a game. Of course, their games were played with human lives-- and now that of their peers, even? The ache of unease refused to leave the older scholar’s gut, though, he supposed, was it worth casting aside potential progress toward ascension for the sake of one person’s consent? It wasn’t as though they gave their other test subjects that much consideration...

“For the betterment of mankind,” Damian finally echoed, sighing in defeat.

“And?”

“...And for you, I suppose,” he added with a chuckle, fondly patting Micolash’s arm.


	2. Chapter 2

Having grown accustomed to the weight of the Mensis cage, it was a mixed blessing for a scholar to be relieved of it, and both men rolled their shoulders with newfound freedom while they waited for their guest, feeling nearly naked with their cages piled neatly in a corner. Micolash sat stiffly at his desk opposite the office door with Damian standing at his side, who was busily stuffing handcuffs into his sleeve, hoping the student in question was fairly trusting-- or, failing that, not well versed in any particular fighting style.

Before long there came an unassuming knock at the door, and a slender young man made his appearance, one whose sharp, narrow features and deathly pale colouration brought to mind those of Cainhurst descent. His wide blue eyes inquired within, to which Micolash waved a hand, beckoning him closer.

“Ah, there you are! Come have a seat, my boy. I hope the day finds you well,” he said jovially, then turned to his companion. “Damian, this is Iuda, one of our students involved in the ongoing studies of optical anatomy.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Iuda said as he daintily sat down across from Micolash, his voice soft and timid, barely above a whisper.

“Likewise,” Damian replied with a polite smile, his mind rapidly filling with inappropriate thoughts.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of his superiors, Iuda’s nerve melted like a snowflake in July, but he tried his best to maintain his look of curiosity mixed with mild disinterest, really hoping the two weren’t undressing him with their eyes the way they seemed to be. That would have been unprofessional, after all.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Micolash said, fake smile wiped clean from his face with ease, like a swapping of masks. “You have the look of the Queen’s kin about you, am I correct in assuming so?”

Iuda blinked several times, looking a bit confused by this line of questioning. “Well, yes, ancestrally. My family have been Yharnamites for several generations--”

“Pthumerian bloodline, you see,” Micolash confirmed quietly, giving Damian a knowing look and receiving a nod in return. “Have you or your relatives ever been in contact with any labyrinth denizens? Watchers, ritekeepers, anyone of the sort?”

“N...o? That is to say, n-not that I’m aware of--”

“Have you been granted any eyes, my boy? Do you see beyond the veil of mortal limitation? Have you any insight into the eldritch truth you wish to impart upon us?”

“--I’m sorry, I’m unsure of how this relates to my thesis, sir,” Iuda responded, now visibly uncomfortable and fidgeting with his long silver braid between his fingers.

Damian interjected with a nudge to Micolash’s shoulder, as the head of Mensis had become unreasonably passionate with his last few questions, eyes wild with the hunger for knowledge. Catching himself, Micolash coughed and blinked slowly, returning to his usual heavy-lidded gaze with an unsettling smile worming its way across his lips.

“Ah. I’ve summoned you under false pretenses, I’m afraid-- you’ll have to forgive me. You see, I’m faced with a bit of a, er,” he paused, hands waving around while trying to find the right term, “ _pickle_ , morally speaking.”

Micolash had clearly been addressing Iuda, however his dark eyes followed Damian while he spoke, the older scholar having taken the opportunity to creep around to the office door and lock it with a loud click. Returning his focus to the young man while Damian positioned himself behind their student’s chair, Micolash leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his desk and tent his fingers.

“In effect, I’ve devised a new and fairly controversial experiment, and while we do have a steady supply of subjects on hand, I have reason to believe someone of your, ah,” he paused again, the words stuck in his throat, “ _particular ancestry_ may greatly increase our chances of success.”

The fine hairs on the back of Iuda’s neck stood on end, and he seriously questioned the authenticity of Micolash’s apologetic expression-- his face did seem to fall that way naturally, though it was genuinely unnerving without the bars of a Mensis cage keeping it safely contained. Resisting the overwhelming urge to look over his shoulder and check what the elder scholar was up to, ignoring the odd jingling sound of keys by his left ear, Iuda flinched as Damian grabbed the cage upon his head, though relaxed slightly as he realized he was being relieved of the heavy item. He angled his head to the side to aid in the removal, and winced at the loud crack of his stiff neck that ensued, however good it felt.

“...What do you propose,” Iuda asked with more than a hint of suspicion, barely able to keep his instinct to panic under wraps.

“Excellent question,” Micolash exclaimed with uncharacteristic cheer. “You see, my boy, I intend to use you as a sort of signal enhancer in our attempt to make contact. An amplification device, if you will.”

Iuda's eyes widened. “Amplification? In what way?"

“Ah, through the act of copulation, of course,” Micolash answered far too enthusiastically. “I’ve already made progress using such a method, however I feel there are many pieces to this particular puzzle, you being final one. In that, I have every confidence.”

“Every confidence,” Damian echoed from behind, placing a hand heavily upon the younger man’s shoulder.

Iuda grimaced in response, suddenly feeling a hoard of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Were they serious? The head of Mensis was rather unconventional in his ideas, everyone knew that, but...

“Surely you jest,” the young man said with a nervous laugh, shifting his weight with intention to stand up from his chair and depart immediately. “I’m sorry, sir-- I’m honoured to have been chosen for this particular endeavour, however I must respectfully decline.”

He had expected to see a look of resigned acceptance in response to his refusal, but the smile Micolash wore only grew wider, taking on an edge he had never seen before from the older man. The jingling of what he assumed were the cage keys again sounded behind him, but in a split second his thin arm was being twisted at an unnatural angle behind his back and he could feel cold metal against his wrist. Iuda cried out in surprise but could not power his way out of Damian’s grip before his other arm was tightly grabbed and locked in place-- the noise hadn’t been keys but handcuffs, and now he was sure the two older men were deadly serious.

“I suppose simply _asking_ you to participate would have been the polite thing to do, but those of your stock are so rare, and I absolutely cannot abide your refusal,” Micolash said, pulling away from his desk and standing up to inspect the pile of instruments he had gathered. “You must understand.”

“You’re mad,” Iuda said in complete shock, struggling fiercely against his restraints. “Both of you, absolutely mad. Let me _go!_ ”

A low chuckle made its way up Micolash’s throat while he watched the young man resist, and he clicked his tongue loudly as his captive took to frantically whipping himself around, writhing to try and get out of the grip Damian had around his slender waist-- being at a disadvantage in nearly every way, there was very little he could do free himself. Damian grit his teeth while struggling to keep his lithe captive under control, letting out the odd grunt when a shoulder or elbow connected with his torso, but even at his age he was able to hold his own, especially against someone a good size smaller and lighter than himself. Taking a chance, he roughly grabbed and tugged on the thick silver braid before him, wrapping it securely around his palm like a leash, and Iuda let out a yelp, his head forced upward to meet his captor’s gaze.

“Now now, settle down,” Micolash chided while fiddling with his surgical tools and plucking one out of the pile. “There’s no need for such histrionics, my boy. This goes far beyond the fragility of individual ego, and toward the advancement of the human race! We may very well escape the gravity of mortality and with high velocity soar free through the cosmos, you understand? This work is _vital!_ ”

The head of Mensis brought his chosen instrument up to eye level for inspection, a curved set of silver bars with a clamping ratchet at one end, better known as a Jennings gag. Without another word he approached, pinched Iuda’s narrow nostrils shut, and brought the cold metal up to his lips, just waiting for the second the young man would run out of air and be forced to gasp for breath-- seizing his chance a few moments later, Micolash crammed the gag into place between his victim’s teeth and quickly screwed the ratchet into position, leaving Iuda’s mouth and throat wide open, unprotected and at the mercy of his every demented whim. Unintelligible complaints and wails were uttered from behind the gag, but no human jaw would be strong enough to dislodge such a device without help, much less break it.

“Lovely,” Micolash admitted, sticking one finger into his student’s open mouth and stroking down his pink tongue. “This first part may be a bit unpleasant, and for that I apologize, but to act as a signal amplifier you’ll be required to have the so-called transmitter within you, I’m afraid.”

His tone may have been sympathetic, but Micolash relished this part, telling his victim what lay in store without revealing the true horror of it all. He fished a fairly large phantasm out from a pocket within his robes and let it sit in his hand for a moment, patting its back to stimulate the production of slick arcane ooze. The visible dread in the younger man’s wide eyes as the fat arcane slug was then held between two fingers to writhe and dangle precariously before him gave Micolash a wonderful jolt of pleasure, especially as Iuda’s efforts to escape were redoubled and Damian had to give the young man’s silver braid another hard tug to get him under control.

“Give in, boy,” Damian said gruffly, wrapping his other arm around Iuda’s heaving chest, “it’ll be over soon enough.”

Tears formed in the corner of Iuda’s eyes but there was no stopping the inevitable, and Micolash again pinched his victim’s nose shut, placing the phantasm into the young man’s mouth. Once the back of his throat was wide open for a desperate gasp of air, two fingers forced the slimy slug down over Iuda’s tongue and into his throat, giving him no choice but to fight his gag reflex and swallow the creature in order to draw another breath. Those same treacherous fingers traced the faint bulge of the slug through his neck and followed it downward, pressing hard to make sure it would not be coming back up, and a strangled wail was given in response, nausea overtaking the young scholar.

“Good boy,” Micolash praised, hungry eyes and fingers still focused upon that pale, slender throat. “Well done.”

“Don’t forget the medium, lad,” Damian added, sounding rather hungry himself.

“Ah, of course,” Micolash said as his focus snapped back from distraction to address Iuda directly. “You see, the augur may not work as intended for this particular experiment without a layer of insulation. The Truth hides within murky depths, and so we must use this for our own purposes-- turn it around to not _hide_ , but instead _uncover_ what is hidden!”

With a knowing chuckle, Micolash returned to his supplies and grabbed a large metal bucket by the handle. A bit of clear fluid sloshed over the lip to splatter onto the floor, and it was obvious from the smell that it was seawater, salty and murky, straight from the source. Nearly a gallon filled the bucket and Micolash lifted it into position with a little grunt, the weight of it already making his arm muscles sting. There was no sense in obstructing his captive’s breathing this time, the water would do that well enough, and with that Micolash began to pour into Iuda’s open mouth. At first it came too fast and had gone down the wrong way-- coughing and sputtering as best he could with the gag in place, Iuda’s vision became spotty and he buckled, needing to be supported by Damian while fighting to clear his lungs. The elder scholar shot his companion a look of disapproval, to which Micolash shrugged sheepishly and tried again, this time succeeding in keeping a steady but manageable stream of the salty liquid emptying into his unwilling test subject.

Being flooded by so much so quickly, Iuda hardly had time to do anything besides swallow desperately to keep up with the flow, and the cold water was quite a shock to his system, the high salinity burning his delicate inner linings. In the beginning it was mainly just unpleasant, entirely unwanted, but as it kept coming with no signs of stopping, he could feel his heavy, swollen stomach pressing tight against his innards, pale skin stretching firm and taut across the belly that now bulged from his slender frame. With such fullness there came a nagging ache at his sides, soon turning into sharp daggers of pain that no amount of readjusting or wriggling could soothe. If only his hands weren’t locked behind his back...

As if sensing the young man’s thoughts, Damian loosened his grip across Iuda’s chest and moved his hand down to offer a little bit of comfort to the poor lad, fingers digging between the straining buttons of his vest to pop it open and place a warm palm over the swell of pale flesh that emerged. With a low hum he moved his hand in slow circles along the top and side of the student’s painfully full belly, easing some of the pressure as the seawater was now being swallowed with great difficulty and a tortured moan.

“Easy now,” Damian rumbled as he kept stroking, realizing he was beginning to become quite aroused in this position, pressed firmly against the smaller man’s back-- surely they both could feel it.

“See that you don’t vomit,” Micolash deadpanned, taking note of how fondly his companion was treating their captive and finding himself disapproving. “This is, in fact, the _easy_ way for you-- don’t make me show you the hard way, hm?”

Iuda met that statement with a choked sob, redoubling his efforts to keep control of his guts, which were churning with great upset, but a body only had so much room before the inevitable. Feeling like a water balloon pushed to its absolute limit, with half a bucket’s worth of water still remaining, there was nowhere else for the liquid to go besides back up his throat and onto the floor, uncontrollable coughing to clear access to his windpipe emptying even more from his bloated form. Micolash took a step back to avoid most of the splatter, wearing a look of flat disappointment, but instead of immediate punishment, he unwound the ratchet on the Jennings clamp and removed it from Iuda’s mouth, letting him finally snap his jaw shut.

“What did I just say? Must you make this procedure more difficult?” he sighed, keenly aware of the capacity of the human stomach and pretending he had not been looking forward to this all along. “Damian, lay him down while I prepare the tubing, would you?”

The elder scholar nodded, knowing well what came next. He swiveled on his heel and hooked his foot around the dazed student’s ankle while tugging on the silver braid once more, causing Iuda to briefly lose his balance and topple backward with a yelp-- of course Damian had been ready for this with an arm catching the younger man before he could fall too far, instead lowering him the rest of the way to the floor at a slow, steady pace. A tiny sigh of relief passed Iuda’s lips as he was carefully rolled onto one side and allowed to settle, the floor hard but supportive, gravity relenting against his inflated guts. It was merely instinct to struggle as Damian knelt down and busied himself unlacing and removing Iuda’s trousers and underclothes, the young man giving a few half-hearted kicks that shook his stomach far too much for his liking, and so he stopped, actually glad to feel the warmth of the older scholar again gently massaging his aching belly, this time with both hands. He could ignore the worrisome clattering coming from behind him, blind to Micolash’s preparations, in favour of shutting his eyes and simply appreciating the calming belly rub while it lasted. He even found himself dissociating enough to be aroused by the fingers making their way over his curves to below his waistline, and his breathing slowed, cheeks suddenly flushed pink, enjoying this singular moment despite the previous torture.

Footsteps snapped the world back in focus for the young scholar, seeing the head of Mensis was standing at his back now, looming above with a tube in hand. The wide grin Micolash wore was more than unsettling, placed firmly in the ‘scary’ category, and it was then Iuda realized he had become hard from Damian’s expert ministrations, nakedness showing off his arousal clear as day.

“You see how eager he is to breed? I knew I’d made the right choice of subject,” Micolash said smugly, prompting a low hum of agreement from Damian. “Being used as the Great Ones intend will be a good lesson-- a pretty boy like him should know his place.”

“Burn in hell,” the smaller man growled, turning his face to the floor and trying to ignore the shameful jolt of pleasure those words summoned within him.

“Perhaps someday,” Micolash replied with a tonal shrug, kneeling down and giving Iuda’s exposed backside a firm slap with carnal delight.

The young man bit his lip and tried to remain silent now, holding onto his last scrap of dignity, but the moment he felt fingers prying his ass apart and something cold and hard prodding his back door, all bets were off. He couldn’t help but change his tune with a shrill cry and try to wriggle away, to no avail.

“No, please-- mercy! I take it back,” he pleaded, suddenly realizing what was happening. “I-I’ll drink again, sir! I beg of you, please, don’t do this!”

The metal nozzle was slender yet unyielding, easily forcing its way into its target like a stake driven into the ground by a sledgehammer. A sob caught in Iuda’s throat at being so freely invaded, but there was to be no relief until he had served his purpose. The bucket that now hung from a nearby coat rack was connected to the nozzle and tubing via a small hatch in its side, and a tiny clamp was all that stood between the young man and the two remaining litres of seawater, which Micolash gleefully loosened once his victim tried to struggle his way out of this predicament.

“You had your chance, boy. I do what I must,” the head of Mensis replied stoically, taking the opportunity to leave bright pink clawmarks down the back of one of his subject’s exposed thighs.

It was the strangest sensation, to have cold water flooding into his backside and pushing its way to his innermost depths with gravity’s help-- not painful, but still the most intimate violation. Iuda squirmed helplessly and let out a most obscene moan at how good it felt to have Damian’s skilled fingers kneading out the knots in his guts in the process, allowing water to fill his every last available crevice. The pressure inside of his belly was simply staggering, testing the very limits of his body’s endurance and convincing him he would burst like a popped tick at any moment, but as each second passed his bowels took on more and more liquid with little complaint besides the odd cramp, which Damian easily worked out. All he could do was pant breathlessly and whine, the shame he felt from getting any pleasure at all from this procedure making him want to sink into the floor and disappear.

For his part, Damian was rather enjoying his task, now fully erect beneath his trousers at being able to massage the beautiful young man before him. The elder scholar was genuinely surprised at how much water their captive was able to take in, and there was something so alluring about seeing him this way, helpless and swollen in the extreme. Awfully reminiscent of a heavily pregnant woman, now that Damian thought about it-- how appropriate, considering the task at hand. Seeing Iuda sporting his own hard-on despite his whimpering was encouraging, though, and Damian soon gave in to temptation, leaning down to trail his lips along the strained expanse of flesh before him, his palm worming its way between those soft white thighs.

Hot breath and gentle kisses teasing below his naval drew Iuda’s attention completely, and he was barely aware of the flow of water coming to an abrupt stop as the bucket finally emptied, with Micolash fastening the clamp to keep from getting backflow up the tube. He bucked his hips against Damian’s light touch, practically forgetting the head of Mensis was still there until his side was roughly grabbed and he was rolled onto his back, a gallon of water sloshing angrily within his distended belly.

“That’ll do,” Micolash said rather coolly, kneeling between his student’s spread legs, dark eyes shooting daggers at Damian while giving Iuda’s stomach an overly hard jostling. “We mustn’t grow too comfortable and ruin the experiment, hm?”

“Indeed,” Damian agreed, eyes downcast at being reprimanded.

Micolash huffed, first pulling a small vial of softly glowing fluid out from a pocket, and then freeing his arousal from his trousers. This would be the most important part, he had decided, reconnecting with the cosmos via harvested phantasm ooze, which coincidentally also made fantastic lube. He drew air in through his teeth with a hiss as the dollop of arcane fluid in his palm made contact with his stiff cock, and once again his most sensitive area was squeezed in the merciless grip of freezing cold. Four or five hard strokes to spread the ichor seemed to activate the substance, the first few molecules entering a frenzy state to heat up like the sparks that would start a wildfire, and in one swift motion Micolash yanked the nozzle out of Iuda’s asshole to force himself in before the young man could retaliate.

Merely a splash of water made it out and onto the floor before Iuda was plugged back up, and he cried out in pain, arching his back. His muscles clamped around Micolash’s cock, being completely unready and unaccustomed to taking something of that size, but his response was ultimately quite pleasurable for the older man, who groaned softly in return. Taking his student by the sides, Micolash wasted no time in getting started and tilted them upward to begin thrusting full force with no warm-up, burying himself up to the hilt with each hard buck of his hips and relishing the loud slap of skin against skin and accompanying wail that followed. The extreme tightness and pressure from the water within his partner was unreal, like nothing he had experienced before, the weight of Iuda’s distended belly pressing down and bouncing with every motion heightening the pleasure for at least one of them. 

With the growing heat of the arcane lubricant simmering in his ass, as well as his unwanted arousal, Iuda could feel a new sensation from deep within his gut, as if the addition of these ingredients into the mix was causing something inside of him to grow restless, pushing against the walls of his stomach and becoming eager to find a way out-- the phantasm he had been forced to swallow, of course. A sense of dread washed over the young man while remembering the feel of the cold, fat slug sliding down his throat, how it had dropped into his empty stomach with a tangible plop, how it was still inside of him and very clearly alive, now roused into action. He felt nauseous, and not just from the vigorous jostling of his overburdened belly, but wisely fought to control his gag reflex lest he be subjected to something even worse than an enema. No doubt Micolash could come up with whatever that was, if anyone could.

Growing restless from watching his companion satisfy his carnal urges in the name of progress, Damian rubbed himself through the thin fabric of his trousers, endlessly aroused at seeing his friend and mentor use such a pretty young man as nothing more than an object, merely another disposable test subject. Whatever moral dilemma he had been struggling with beforehand had been tossed out the window long ago, and now the elder scholar desperately wanted to contribute, to achieve enlightenment for himself in the most satisfying way.

“May I...” he asked, trailing off as he was given the nod of approval.

“Be my guest,” Micolash answered between laboured breaths, gesturing to the vial of phantasmal ooze at his side.

Slathering the ichor upon his cock was enlightening in itself, and in an instant Damian finally understood the zeal of his companion in pursuing this endeavour. To his older anatomy the supernatural burn of the substance was more bearable, still intense beyond belief but more of an overwhelmingly inviting shower temperature than a scalding pot of coffee dumped directly into his lap. Damian shuffled over to position Iuda’s head between his legs, already feeling a bit wobbly and leaking precum, curious fingers cradling the young man’s skull and a thumb pressing into his lips to work open his mouth. At first Iuda resisted, knowing exactly what lay in store and feeling betrayed by the older man who had been treating him more or less kindly, considering the circumstances, but there was really no point-- better to get it over with sooner rather than later. With a soft moan he nibbled and sucked at the digit, inviting his elder in and just hoping he would be gentler than Micolash was being at his back end, which felt battered and sore already.

“That’s a good lad,” Damian praised with a pat to the cheek, prompting a snort from his companion.

“Ooh, he likes you,” Micolash puffed through a nasty smirk. “Perhaps you’ll keep him, should our experiment fail? A pet might do you good.”

Unsure if that was a joke, Damian chuckled with some reservation, though admittedly the idea of having the pretty boy collared and trained for service gave him quite the sinful thrill.

“We’ll see,” was all he could commit to, hoping it was said softly enough that the young man wouldn’t notice and decide to exact revenge with, say, sharp teeth and a clenched jaw.

Thankfully, Iuda was too busy being bombarded with sensations to pay close attention to their conversation, the burning from whatever Micolash had used as lubricant causing the phantasm in his stomach to lurch feverishly in response. With Damian crouching over his face and pressing the head of his cock into position against Iuda’s lips, the student merely breathed in and took what he was given, curling his tongue to welcome his elder inward, but here the arcane substance smeared against his lips and teeth and made for a scorching pain, and the phantasm within him responded so strongly he feared it would succeed in its efforts to escape his body.

Damian, however, seemed lost in pleasure, bracing himself against the floorboards while taking on a slow, steady pace with his thrusts, every movement against slick mouth and throat muscles like a revelation, thanks to the arcane ooze. His jaw hung slack and his eyes shut while falling into Micolash’s rhythm, both men’s hips bucking at the same time from opposite ends, though Damian obeyed the urge to lean forward and rest his head against their subject’s bloated belly, listening intently to the sloshing movement of so much water beneath stretched skin-- Micolash, meanwhile, was far more interested in the high-pitched squeals he could draw out from the young man while fucking his tightly clenched asshole. Pain had always been intertwined with pleasure in his mind, and just knowing how uncomfortable Iuda must have been, to be so full and now used by two men like a gutter whore, it brought him such delight, so many writhing tendrils of pleasure deep within his guts and groin.

Orgasm was key: Micolash knew this, having been granted eldritch vision last time he had experienced one. Without warning, he took hold of Iuda’s throbbing cock and began stroking erratically, himself edging closer with every passing second. By the look on Damian’s face it wouldn’t take much for him to peak, either, perhaps if he could time everything just right, all three could experience--

A gasp and moan escaped the older scholar, who broke the rhythm to give a few hurried thrusts down Iuda’s throat, pulling out in time to paint a streak of cum across his target’s pale face. Damian’s eyes glazed over briefly as he sat back, clearly trying to process whatever truth had come into his head, and though it was a bit disappointing to see his friend finishing early, Micolash laughed with heavy breaths, now slamming his cock as hard as he could into the keening boy beneath him.

“They hear our prayers!” he exclaimed with delight, to which Damian nodded, blinking slowly and still looking dazed.

The taste of the older man dribbled from Iuda’s lips and down his cheeks, and he clamped his eyes shut to protect them from stray droplets, but it would be a lie to say he was not aroused by it. Micolash had tilted his hips to a sharper angle, and now despite all of the conflicting sensory information Iuda’s brain was working to sort out, the head of Mensis was hitting that magical spot so deep inside of him, pounding over and over with such force, that he would have screamed had he the energy, instead settling for loud cries of pleasure that bounced off of every wall.

“Come on, lads, you can do it,” Damian said hoarsely, having returned to earth and now back to fondly rubbing and brushing his cheek against the swell of the young man’s belly, hoping that would help push the other two over the edge along with him.

Giving a few moans of his own, Micolash’s hips jittered as he clenched every muscle in his body and released all at once like a coiled spring, hitting his climax as Iuda’s innards twitched and pulsed around his cock, orgasm washing over the two like a tidal wave. It all happened so fast-- there was the split second of unspeakable pleasure shared between them, stars colliding in the microcosms of their minds, and then--

And then--

_Eyes, so many eyes of black and red and gold, throbbing, bubbling, boiling like a molten sea, staring inward at the many fissures of the human brain, now turning into tentacles of all shapes and sizes slithering chaotically and gathering, shifting, moving as one--_

\--a primal shriek and a wet, sickening rip sounded out, hitting eardrums like a bullet. A splatter of blood and gore coated every surface in the room as bright, viscous tentacles burst forth from Iuda’s inflated gut, sea and sky merging to birth a new dimensional gateway, albeit only for the briefest of moments. Contact had been made-- made straight to Damian’s face, in fact, as the force of dozens of emerging tentacles tossed him across the room like a ragdoll, landing hard against a wooden bookshelf. He groaned and brought a hand up to his nose, which was pouring blood and surely broken, though as he looked up to the other two men to survey the damage, he seemed otherwise unharmed.

Blinking away the haze of his enlightening orgasm from his eyes, Micolash shook his head in disbelief and looked down at the mangled body that had been a student mere seconds ago. There sitting amidst the mess of rosy seawater and shattered ribcage was the phantasm, curled around itself and slowly swiveling its stalked eyes to take in its surroundings, seeming comfortable enough. The scholar’s focus then wandered around the room and finally over to Damian, who shared his wide-eyed look of horror. The two stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, until Micolash was able to summon a tiny, sheepish voice from the back of his throat, ready to accept his defeat.

“...Shall we call a custodian, then, Damo?”


End file.
